Him
by kaylee-bella
Summary: After several seemingly perfect years together Edwrad suddenly leaves Bella. Will Bella ever find him? What will she do if she doesn't?


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: I would like to thank my wonderful beta Kayla Cullen from Twilighted, go check out her stories on there.

I also want to thank my beta from fanfiction CullenxVamp. Go check out her stories. I'm beta for them and I know you'll enjoy. She has also posted on The writers coffee shop as mandixcullen, so you can check her out there too. I'm also on there as kaylee_bella so come on over.

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Ever had that feeling that you must be dreaming only to realize that it is, in fact, real, that you were actually living your worst nightmare? Imagine that feeling every day, every time you woke up. Every time you opened your eyes. Every morning I woke up, I would have the same feeling that I was dreaming. Sometimes I had to pinch myself just to make sure. It wasn't always like this. I didn't always dread being conscious, I actually used to hate sleep. It would diminish from my time with _him_. I couldn't wait to wake up in the morning just to see his face again, and every time I opened my eyes, it would hit me again. The sheer beauty of his face. I had seen it every day for over a year and still, every time I saw it, my reaction was just like it had been the first time. I was in complete and utter awe.

I was always afraid that he would disappear in the night and never return, but of course my fears were always unfounded, and he was always there when I had woken up. Looking at me through his perfect eyes, smiling at me with his perfect lips. It had always taken my breath away. But all of that was over five years ago. My memories of him were starting to fade and the thought sent a wave of panic down my spine. Thinking of him still caused me actual physical pain. I didn't allow myself to think of him often. I didn't have anything left to help remind me of him, he had taken everything with him when he left. Pictures. Gifts. CD's. Anything that would have reminded me of him. I still remembered the night he left, as if I could ever forget. That was the night my heart broke.

"It's for the best," he said. "I'm not safe for you."

"I think I'll decide what's safe for me, thanks," I replied as I threw my arms around his neck.

"NO," he cried. "It's more than that, I . . . I don't love you like I used to. I mean, I'll always love you in a way, but I need to move on and so do you."

"But you promised," I whispered, afraid that if I spoke any louder he would notice that I was falling apart. "You promised forever, that's what you said. You said that you wouldn't ever leave me, that you would stay forever."

"Well things change," he added, after seeing my devastated expression. "I think it's time that I make a change. I would have to leave soon anyway, but I think it's best I do it now. I can't let this go any further than it already has. I hope you can understand."

"Understand? You want me to understand? Oh, I understand, you've gotten bored with me haven't you? You can admit it."

"No, of course not, that's not it at all. I just need to move. Move house and move on."

I couldn't have stopped him, not just because he was so much stronger than me, but because I knew he was right. I had always known I wasn't good enough for him and here was the proof. I didn't even blame him for leaving or be angry with him. I blamed myself for not being enough to keep him here.

It took me a week before I could eat again or even get out of bed. I felt like he had taken half of me with him. The half that was fun and loving, and all that he had left me with was sadness and self-pity. Eventually, I tried to fall back into the pattern of my life, but I quickly realised that he was my life and that without him, there was very little point to it. So I would go to work, come home, eat, try not to think for a few hours – because thinking was dangerous, it was painful – and then I would go to bed. Every night I would dream that he was still with me and every morning I would wake up to find out he was gone. This pattern had repeated itself for the past five years. That is why I dread being awake, because my dreams are much more favourable.

I looked for him for the first year. I went everywhere he had ever taken me, everywhere he had ever mentioned. There was no sign of him. No sign that he had been there to think about me and to reflect on the time we had spent together. I had given up when I realised that he didn't want me to find him, or else he would have gone somewhere I would have thought to look. I didn't think that I had ever really given up hope that he would come back, though. Whenever I walked past one of our places, I would glance in just to check. I would almost run home everyday to check my messages, though there were never any from anyone besides my mother. Through the long, desperate five years I had never given up. I called his phone all the time but to no avail. So one day after hearing his glorious, musical voice telling me to "Leave a message, and I'll get back to you" I decided to take drastic action. I decided that I couldn't live another day without him in my life, and if I had to, I didn't want to live.

The next day was a blur. I was strangely excited to be leaving behind this world and all the excruciating pain in it. I longed for nothingness. It would be a nice release from the torture I had felt every second of being away from him. I hadn't decided how I was going to do it. I knew I didn't want to be in my house when I did it. I mean, who knew how long I would be there before someone found me, decaying. I wanted it to be in public so that I would get cleaned up quickly. That may sound morbid, but I was past caring at that point. I just wanted to end my pain. I decided that I would do it this weekend. Where and how, I wasn't sure. I was going to leave it to chance and let an opportunity present itself.

Saturday morning I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. It was like I was nervous about something … just not dying. I dressed in smart, yet comfortable clothes, not knowing what form my escape would take. A deep blue shirt – it was his favourite colour on me – and matching trousers. I headed out of the door. I was headed towards my death. I wasn't conscious of exactly where I was going. Somehow I ended up at the park. It wasn't a good idea considering the time we had spent there together. It was like there was something drawing me in, and I was too weak to fight it physically and emotionally. There was a hot air balloon festival going on._ Perfect,_ I thought. _They go nice and high._

This must have been the reason I was drawn here - to this place. Our place as it had once been. I rented one, bluffing that I had more experience with one than I actually had, and that I knew what I was doing. I had been in one before, but someone else was controlling it. I didn't care about anything but going up, and I knew how to do that. I went higher and higher until I was higher than any other balloon. I looked down, not frightened of what I was about to do, but scared that by some miracle, I might survive the fall and that notion was inconceivable. I didn't think I could work up the nerve to do this again, so I had to make this count. I dangled one leg over the edge carefully and then the other. I was perched on the edge of the basket at this point, my heart beating frantically as if it knew its beats were numbered.

"I love you," I whispered, knowing that there was no way he would hear, but needing to say it nonetheless. I took a deep breath and let go of the balloon, of my life, of him.

"No!" I heard from below in a voice that I knew, and would respond to if I were awake, asleep, or dead. It was _his_ voice. I would recognize it anywhere; it was the most powerful sound in the world. I could pick it out from miles away. This was why I had been drawn here, I was drawn to him, but now it was too late. I fell silently through the air knowing it was too late for me now. At least I got to hear his voice one last time. At least I got to know he came back for me. At least I got to know he loved me.

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Author's note: Thanks you all so much for reading. Let me know if you have any questions, comments or suggestions. Also a few people have asked about maybe extending it and changing it into a multi-chapter fic. Let me know if you think I should.

Also check out my other story Figured Out. Be warned it is full of language and lemons, so if you are too young to deal with don't read.


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